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COPYRIGHT DEPOSrR 



IN THE VALLEY OF 
THE GRAND 



IN THE VALLEY 
OF THE GRAND 

BY 
ERNEST LEAVERTON 



1917 






Copyright 1917 

By ERNEST LEAVERTON 

All rights reserved 



DEC I3IBI7 

'C1.A48106G 



^ 



Dedicated 

to 

The Homemakers in the Grand Valley, 



Before me lay the keyboard of 
Nature: Touch it where I would it re- 
sponded with a melodious harmony of 
Love. 

I pass this little volume on to you, 
dear reader, trusting that it may afford 
you a pleasant hour of reflection and 
en j oyment. 

Grand Junction, Colorado. 
October, 1917. 



IN THE VALLEY OF 
THE GRAND 

The waning moonlight proclaimed 
the birth of a perfect day. The sky was 
of azure clearness. Rays of saffron 
from Eastern horizon betokened a glor- 
ious sunrise. Presently from o'er Grand 
Mesa — that magnificent array of rock 
and pine — proud Phoebus raised his 
head. Another day was born. An- 
other life to live ! 

The charming days of Fall had come ; 

The trees were full of hanging fruit. 
Son ! You and I to-day will chum, 

And unto Nature give salute. 

We'll walk — ^we want no motor's help; 

To-day we'll be healthy and free; 
Our lungs we'll give a chance to yelp ; 

Our bodies we'll girdle with glee ! 

Son and I were soon off. We carried 
no guns or fishing tackle — ^who would 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

want to spoil the pleasure of a living 
creature on a day like this? We went 
forth to enjoy encumbered not, save by 
thin sandwich and cookie in side pock- 
et. A day before us. Kings ! Living in 
the Valley of the Grand! 

The Valley of the Grand! 

How sweet thy name: 
How great thy name — 

Thou Valley of the Grand! 

We hit off toward the sugar factory 
— the shortest cut to the river. I have 
often thought of what a wonderful thing 
sugar is — Concentrated Nectar of the 
Gods ! Incorruptible, like a sweetheart 
true; Pure as the morning dew. And 
we make it here ; right under one's nose, 
and we consider it commonplace. As 
we approached the factory, I brought 
myself to attention, and looking into 
the face of old Mr. Factory, I tipped 
my hat and bowing said: "Old Mister 
Sugar Man, I'm glad to see yuh ! May 

2 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

ye live long and prosper." Some wav- 
ing beet tops in the nearby field caught 
i^J eye, and I tossed them a kiss, as I 
came up to the tail end of my salute. 
And then realizing that they were back 
of all of this, I sang them a little song 
as we passed by: 

My Sugar Beet! 

My Sugar Beet! 
What bee carried honey to you? 

Who gave you the power 

To sit by the hour, 
And fill up your heart 

With such a sweet tart? 
Cupid must have been shooting at you I 

"Off agin — gone agin, Dad!" com- 
mented Son. 

"Heavens! Boy," said I, "You have 
busted my rhyming-machine and now 
my bobbin is gone." 

"I should worry," consoled Son, look- 
ing as rosy and happy as a baked apple 
swimming amid sugar and cream. 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

'Erelong we reached the river — ^the 
Grand. Looking between two young 
trees of cottonwood, we watched the 
swift stream eddy and half turn and leap 
forward, ever on in endless glides and 
spurts. Walking a little farther up the 
bank we came to a small bayou where a 
slight part of the bosom-stream came 
in to play a while with its green friends 
along the border. Round the bend be- 
yond came the sound of crash and splash 
— it was the waters playing leapfrog 
o'er the rocks. Coming to the bend, 
we stood enthralled. Here lay before 
us a long sweep of the Father of the 
Valley ! If his mighty soul could but 
speak, he would tell us of how he came 
to be : 

How rock formation fought for breath ; 

And air and water saved from death 
This once fiery ball of hell. 

Now abounds on every land 
Evidence of the Unseen Hand. 



IN THE VALLEY OP THE GRAND 

Many long years was it to be 
Before I could run to the sea. 

Through mountain and valley and 
plain 
I rumbled and tumbled to gain 
This freedom so precious to me. 

But out of my labor and strife 

I gave to this valley the breath of 
Life! 

How true it is that people must first 
settle and develop the great river-basins 
of the world, in order to furnish stam- 
ina to the less favored spots. Go back, 
if you please, in the misty ages of the 
past and study the history of the growth 
of the great river-basins of the olden 
times: The Nile, the Tigris and Eu- 
phrates, and the Yang-tse-Kiang. Later 
the hordes came to the Danube; scaled 
the Alps and drifted up the Rhine. On 
and on they pressed until our own At- 
lantic shore bid them welcome, and up 

5 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

the rivers of its coast they went. Be- 
fore long they sailed down the Ohio and 
into the Mississippi. Finally they 
crossed the Great Divide; and here we 
are, friend — in the Valley of the Grand. 
Where we have barely touched these 
rich ovens of earth and these pockets of 
mineral and oil. What a heritage to 
enjoy and to pass on to future genera- 
tions ! 

Flow on, Grand! 

Natured and planned 
By Divine Grace! 

Charming thy face; 
Useful thy form — 
All, You adorn! 

We tramped on through willow-gar- 
den and sand-drift. The great river 
had sifted out huge banks of yellow 
and white sand, which lay glistening in 
the bright sunlight. Son wrote his 
name in the sand, while I threw flat lit- 

6 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

tie rocks on the face of the stream. 
They hummed and skipped from dip to 
dip and finally went to their last sleep 
in the bed of the river. A hawk floated 
lazily overhead; some magpies chatter- 
ed and flirted in the nearby trees. 
Strolling idly along, we came opposite 
the old f ording-place. My mind turned 
back to the pioneer: Where is he who 
first ventured to ride his steed into the 
vitals of this swift, death-sucking mon- 
ster's maw? Braver heart than I pos- 
sess must he have who would attempt 
to conquer this turbulent stream. Per- 
haps his spirit was hovering near — 
reading my feeble attempts to give him 
due admiration and praise : 

O! That I had words to tell 

Of this first Knight who rode so well ; 
Who marked the way to moving band, 

So they could ford the River Grand. 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

No monument may grace your resting 

place, 
And of your flesh and bone there is no 

trace ; 
But now You, our Hero, from Home 

above 
Can see the fruits of your pioneer 

Love! 

Peace and Rest, to you! 

We now turned off into a path that 
led into the orchards. Fruit hung 
temptingly within reach. 

"May I have a pear. Dad.'"' inquired 
Son. 

"Yes, here's some on the ground, but 
don't touch the fruit on the trees." 
Somehow I felt that we were welcome to 
fruit on the ground, without asking for 
it. This belief was further reinforced 
by the fact that there were numerous 
ducks and ducklings helping themselves 
to it. 

8 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

Quack! Quack! Smack! Smack! Muck! 
Muck ! 

Full of duck song 

Thej waddled along; 
Eating their fill. 

From orchard till. 

Why man! — they were there like a 
duck! 

Who doesn't enjoy watching a duck.? 
They may not be so handy on dry land 
with their side-wheelers ; but oh that 
bill — how it dives and darts ! That 
neck with its fifty-seven varieties of 
glides, twists and turns. Yes, a duck 
must get a lot of pleasure out of life. 
At least, I never heard of them being 
bothered with fleas nor "sich" like. 
About the only thing that "gets" a 
duck, after he's safe and sound out of 
his shell, is — Homo, No joshing, did 
you ever hear of a duck dying a natural 
death.? 

9 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

When we reached the house, we asked 
the lady for a drink. "Certainly, all 
you want, in the cistern-house." 

We had expected to have to drink 
cistern water. Not so — it was mount- 
ain water, from Grand Mesa. "Oh! 
And so you have mountain water?" 

"Yes, we get the same water as you 
do in town." 

"That's great !" I complimented, 

"Don't let the ducks in, please," as 
she turned toward the house. 

Son and I took turns in drinking and 
shooing ducks. Having taken on our 
capacity we departed, feeling that so far 
the Gods had been exceedingly good to 
us ; but our good luck was still on the 
upward trend — we had much more 
treasure-trove ahead waiting discovery. 

What charm in hidden things; 

What joy their finding brings I 
What peace in looking around — 

In sky, water and ground! 

10 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

We came very nearly stumbling over 
a brick house in the next orchard. It 
set well back from the road hidden by 
some massive cottonwoods. It was not 
a small house, for it was two stories with 
ample girth; yet it appeared so on ac- 
count of the trees. How cool and in- 
viting it looked! How substantial and 
everlasting ! 

"Some house!" remarked Son. 

"I would guess yes," I returned. 

A man and woman were packing pears 
in a shed. "Come in!" said the man, 
in a soft quiet voice. 

"Oh Dad!" exclaimed son, pointing 
toward some plums and prunes hanging 
in profusion nearby. 

"Wouldn't that make your mouth 
water.'* Help yourself. Sonny," spoke 
up the woman, "there's plenty of them." 

"I should like to buy a few," I said. 

"Oh shucks! We wouldn't think of 
selling them," she responded. "Would 
you like a pear.'*" 

11 



IN THE VALLEY OP THE GRAND 

"No, thank you, but I'll sure eat a 
prune or two." 

We stood in the shed-doorway and 
watched them pack. How deftly the 
woman's fingers entwined paper around 
the pears ; and how proud and handsome 
the pears were, to receive such good 
care and to be laid down gently, just 
so. Once in a while there would be a 
cull tossed over into the cull-box. I 
felt sorry for them, until the woman 
told me that they would go to a poor 
family in town, and be eaten by a lot of 
little tots. Then I thought that they 
were after all the luckiest of the lot, for 
they would be appreciated the most. 

"You are getting good prices, are you 
not?" 

"Oh, yes, fine!" joyously pro- 
claimed the man. "We will make at 
least a thousand dollars off of our pears 
this year and we have not quite an acre 
and a half. My brother, back East, 
won't believe it. He's coming out this 

12 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

fall. Said he was coming just on pur- 
pose to find out how much of a liar I 
am about my returns. By the time he 
comes I'll have them from the Asso- 
ciation to show him. If he comes I am 
a-thinking there'll be another family 
move out here in the spring." 

"Well, Son, haven't you filled up yet 
on those plums and prunes.^" 

"Let him eat all he wants — they won't 
hurt him," encouragingly offered the 
woman. 

"Gee, Dad! Wasn't you a kid once?" 
ejaculated Son. 

"Yep, I reckon; but let's be going. 
Thank you for the fruit." 

"Don't mention it," was the parting 
chorus of the contented packers. 

The next place stood clean and preen 
— like a pure-bloodel animal. It seemed 
to say: "Come on — you're as welcome 
as ripe tomatoes in January. I'm al- 
ways ready for company, be it back gate 
or front." We came through the back 

13 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

gate — one of those little lover's kind 
that swings noiselessly and gracefully, 
with a handy latch. Where is there a 
youth or maiden who has not made love 
over a gate. Why ask such an obvious 
question : I shall deny the question mark. 
Let's take a look at ourselves over the 
gate, as we once were, as we now are, 
as we will be: 

Lovers at the front gate: 

Who cares if hour is late ; 
With love gently swaying 

There's no harm in staying. 
Both busy taking stock — 

"Marie! It's twelve o'clock!" 
"O hang it!" says Marie — 

"Look out! Bobbie, she'll see!" 

"I didn't say you could have so many; 
"Naughty boy! Next time you'll 
get not any." 



14 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"Marie! Come this minute!" 

"Gee, kid, I'm in for it. 

"Maw's getting awful mad — 

"She's most anything but glad. 
"Bobbie, let loose my arm." 

"One more won't do no harm." 
"Oh well ! Take it and go ... , 

"Gee whiz ! But you ain't slow !" 

As I have already said — ^we came 
through the gate — and there they were 
— what? Why the loveliest patch of 
onions one ever shed tears over. From 
love to onions — ^but such is life ! Six or 
seven acres of onions, and not a weed 
in sight! Their white bodies gleamed 
in the sunlight ; showing only, of course, 
a modest glimpse of tender blossom. 
Each green plumage nodded a hearty 
onion greeting; then stood quietly and 
proudly to attention as we gave them 
fond and tender looks. I wanted to get 
versy at once and sing them a little 
onion song. But alas! The only thing 

IS 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

I could rhyme with onion was bunion, 
and that wouldn't do. As I struggled 
with the problem, Son suddenly exclaim- 
ed : "Cracky ! Dad, wouldn't you like to 
own that patch?" 

"Son! If I owned that patch of 
onions I'd be the proudest gentleman in 
Mesa County. I'd go right up town 
and run a private bus-line out there and 
back. I'd show 'em what I could do, 
by jinks !" 

"How much do you s'pose a fellow'd 
get for them. Dad?" 

"I don't know, Son, but I remember 
that I had to pay fifteen cents a pound 
last Spring for a mess or two." 

"How many do you reckon there is 
here?" 

"Now look'a here, Son, I don't know 
any more about that than you do — sup- 
pose you count them. If you are good 
at figures you ought to get them 'the 
once over' by Christmas. Maybe we'll 

16 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

run on to somebody around here who can 
furnish us with some onion-statistics." 

We came on toward the barn. Every- 
thing was as neat and nifty as young 
Mr. Neat and Miss Nifty could be. 
Stalks of green corn lay in an even pile 
on a hayrack ; all farm implements were 
under cover; two fat cows stood con- 
tentedly chewing their cuds ; a dapple- 
gray mare stuck her head over the 
fence at us ; her colt was lazily taking 
lunch; several cords of wood, cut into 
stove-wood lengths, were piled in com- 
pact rows between large cottonwood 
trees. "There, Son, I want you to take 
notice of that wood-pile. Isn't it a 
pippin.'* It makes me feel right at 
home." 

Some folk have made their pile. The 
only kind of a pile I have made is a 
wood-pile. Yes, I live in town, but I've 
got a wood-pile. Creating a wood-pile 
is an excellent way to eradicate guile 
and gall. I must confess that I am self- 

17 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

ish, for now and then travelers come 
along and look at my wood-pile, and 
notice the un-piled part of it, and — go 
on. Other travelers offer to work out 
a meal. But I tell them that that wood- 
pile is my very own and I don't propose 
to divide that pleasure with anyone. I 
am willing to let them have a meal, but 
not at the expense of using my wood- 
pile. I love my wood-pile. I have yet 
to find a more useful and health-giving 
implement than is the ax. This ancient 
tool of man has created more wealth, 
health and happiness than has any other 
instrument ever invented by him. Every 
true nature's nobleman loves his ax. He 
delights in the harmony of its voice and 
its handsome clean-cut face. It is a 
charming companion : 



18 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

Some aspire to office and affairs of 
state ; 
But give me a wood-pile near the 
barnyard gate. 
Some like to ride around in buzz-carts 
so grand; 

But I like to swing my ax to beat the 
band. 

Some have got rheumatics and others 
have the gout; 
But I've got an appetite and feeling 
stout. 
Some are getting old and bent and 
round-chested ; 
And always feeling tired and never 
are rested. 

If all you guys that's sick and sort o' 

disgusted ; 
And thinking hard to keep from 

going busted — 
Would get an ax and chop some wood 
You'll be doing yourselves a lot of good ! 

(And others too). 

19 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

On the back lawn were several lines of 
clothes ! 

When I see the Stars and Stripes 
floating from lofty staff, it makes me 
want to take off my hat and salute The 
Colors. But when I see Milady's clothes- 
line full of the usual Monday wash — 
and it so pretty and white, waving and 
flapping in the wind — not only do I want 
to take off my hat to her and to it, but 
I want to kneel in the presence of both 
and offer up a prayer that I live in a 
country that can boast of more clothes- 
line per capita than any other country 
on the face of God's green earth. And 
if there are baby clothes on the line, in 
my mind's fancy, I can see little angels 
with happy faces sitting around on the 
grass and on the fence looking at the 
little garments! 

"What are you dreaming about, 
Dad.?" 

"I was thinking. Son, what a lovely 
place that is for turtle-doves to spoon 

20 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

in," pointing to a dove-box on top of 
the barn. Several of the doves were 
preening and cooing on the shingles. 
Symbols of purity, gentleness and 
peace, they seemed to bless the quiet 
barn-yard. They flitted among the 
animals. While we were watching them 
one lit on the broad back of the dapple- 
gray. She stood perfectly still while 
the dove favored her with a visit: 

What confidence and love 

Doth animals display, 
Where man is kind and true. 
Soul, when sick and tried, 

Retreat to quiet barn-yard — 
Owned by some gentle friend — 

And watch its sweet life. 

Rainbows of hope arise; 

Disappointments depart. 
And peace captures the heart! 

As we came around in front of the 
house, a man addressed us: "Hello, 
there ! What are you doing out here.?" 



21 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"Why, Guy! Is this where you live? 
But I might have known that you lived 
here — just from the thrills and joys 
that I have received during the past half 
an hour. Here I have known you for a 
good many years and have never been 
on your place before. I have lost a 
great deal by acting so unwisely." 

"Tut, tut, man," he replied modestly, 
"You are spreading it on too thick." 

"Say, Guy! What a glorious field of 
onions you have. What can you pos- 
sibly do with all the money they will 
bring you.''" 

"I've got a place for it — I am going 
to build a barn. That old barn has been 
an eyesore to me for a long time." 

"That old bam looks pretty good to 
me." 

"That may be, but I'm going to have 
a better one." 

What do you expect to get for those 



onions ?" 



22 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"Oh, I ought to get at least three hun- 
dred dollars an acre. How would you 
fellows like to have some watermelon?" 

"Would we like to have some water- 
melon, Son? Would we!" Loud and 
long came the answer — "You betcha!" 

"Come on," said* Guy. He took us 
across the road. 

"My! What potatoes!" I ejaculated. 

"Let me show 'em up," and Guy 
scraped off a little loose, sweet earth 
with his hand. There they lay — uni- 
form in size — not quite as large as a 
croquet-ball, and slightly flattened. 
They were of a perfect mild red-rose 
tint. He cut one open, and oh, such a 
white heart! I have seen red potatoes 
before, but none so lovely as were these. 
And so many say that they can't raise 
potatoes in the Valley. What mag- 
nificient proof did my eyes behold. 
Never again will I be imposed upon by 
any disgruntled potato knocker. I 
proclaim it: More perfect potatoes 

23 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

never grew eyes than were those that 
winked at me from their soft bed in 
Guy's field. 

The next thing we came to was some 
sweet potatoes ; their delicate vines cov- 
ered the earth in thick profusion. 

"Well, Guy, I suppose that these 
sweet potatoes are right on the job, 
too?" With a shovel he deftly turned 
out a bunch of them. They hung in a 
cluster, about the size of a milk-bucket 
— five large ones from six to eight inches 
long and a number of smaller ones: 

Sweet potato ! Sweet potato ! 

What magic did cause you to grow. 
Yellow and fragrant and tender. 
In riotous free-hearted splendor.? 

Oh yam ! Oh yam ! Delicious yam ! 

Savoriest tuber what am — 
When you are on the bill of fare, 

Just let me know and I'll be there ! 



24 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"There is just the right mess for your 
dinner to-morrow," said Guy. (Guy 
must have heard my prayer.) 

"Guy, There is nothing that I can 
think of this minute that I would rather 
have than baked sweet patotoes." 

"Well then, I'll eat your share of the 
watermelon," commented Son. 

"Now, Son!" I remonstrated, "it is 
not fair to throw a clutch in so tight as 
that. I love my sweet potato — but oh, 
you watermelon!" 

"Follow me," said Guy. We were 
soon surrounded and captured, body 
and soul, by a field-artillery of water- 
melons. They pointed at us from every 
angle. Guy charged here and there 
among them, thumping as he hopped. 
"Thump, thump !" he softly whacked 
them, until he found one extra large of 
girth that thumped true to his trained 
sense of a ripe and mellow heart within. 

"Here is one!" he proclaimed. We 
wheeled and charged, with open mouth. 

25 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

Gu J drew his large j ack-knif e. Follow- 
ing the incision came the sound of crack- 
ing rind — one of those cracks that 
cracks itself. All it needed was a little 
encouragement. I wish I could write that 
sound down on paper, but it is a mys- 
tical, soothing, unwriteable thing for me 
— one of those goodies that I cannot 
reduce to ink. 

Eating watermelon, right off the vine 
on a cool fall day ; All you want, man ! 
Think of it ! I've just got to rhyme: 

Refreshing sweet watery juice, 
As ever a plug would turn loose. 

Bright red-faced, mellow-hearted pulp. 
Ecstasy at every gulp! 

Watermelon ! Watermelon ! 

Some airy light little fairy 
Must have taken a pail of dew ; 

Some sunshine and pearls and laugh- 
ter of girls. 
And chunk of rainbow, then blending 
just so — 
Behold ! Watermelon, that's you ! 

26 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

Having loaded up to our ears on 
watermelon, and only half of it being 
consumed, we cached the remainder, 
along with our bunch of sweet potatoes, 
in a newly mowed alfalfa-cock in an ad- 
joining field. "We'll be back this after- 
noon, Guy." 

"I'll be expecting you" he replied. 

We ambled off through the alfalfa- 
field, where the sweet aroma of the hay, 
blending itself with the air and the 
gentle breeze, concocted cocktails of de- 
Hghtful nose-whiffings. I thought of 
how pleasant it would be if it could be 
canned. Perhaps some day somebody 
will invent a machine that will compress 
and capture this charming odor from 
out of the air, and we can have it on our 
tables the year round. Then one could 
have various kinds of compressed odors 
— keeping them on the table in one of 
those oldfashioned whirl-a-gigs, like 
mother used to have to keep the salt, 
27 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

pepper, vinegar and pepper-sauce in. 
Remember? 

I have often thought of alfalfa as be- 
ing Nature's most precious gift to the 
arid West: 

Thou tall slender clover-like desert 

herb, 
With violet and purple bloom superb ; 
Prolific growth and everlasting youth ; 
With grace usefulness and nothing 
uncouth — 
We of the West welcome you — Alfalfa f 

When God was busy working out a plan. 
That this great West might be useful 
to man, 
He made you immune from the heat and 
cold; 
And now you are far more precious 
than gold — 
Yes, we of the West love you — ^Alfalfa ! 

Leaving the hay-field behind we en- 
tered a field of corn. Old King Corn is 



28 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

a reliable old soul — filling up the mush- 
bowl and all sorts of useful stunts. He's 
on the job most everywhere in the 
States. He is certainly at home in the 
Valley of the Grand. Quite a few local 
folk used to tell me that one couldn't 
raise corn here — that the nights were 
too cold; but they don't talk that way 
nowadays. I was born near a corn-field, 
so I was told, and so I feel perfectly at 
home in one. I don't have to ask any 
one how many bushels of corn in a field 
will make per acre. I may not know 
much about onions, but when it comes to 
corn, I'll take a peg in the deal. I'll 
make a "sashay" around through the 
corn, and then I'm ready to give my 
opinion: "Well, boys, she'll run any- 
where from eighty to eighty-five bush- 
els per acre." 

This particular corn-field in which 
Son and I were gallivanting through, 
was some corn, and then some — would 
miss ninety bushels to the acre by only 

29 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

an ear or two. There is no better corn 
country on the face of God's green sod 
than right here in the Valley. "Yep, 
they done said yar nights she been too 
cold. Wall what o' that— Tis all the 
better by hinkey, fer the korn she sleeps 
o' nights, and then how she does git up 
and hump through the day — kause she's 
fresh and full o' dew and feelin' fine, 
thankey. If the nights war hot, she'd 
git all het up and git cranky and tired 
o' growin'. We done got sich a crackin' 
good kuntry that we don't need hot 
nights — things ken spread round fast 
o' nuff from sunup ter sundown. Now, 
ain't I got yer comin', goin' and side- 
ways on the korn hatchin'.^" 

I felt more at home than ever when I 
ran across some cockle-burs in the corn, 
for I have a distinct recollection of how 
it was my job to go through the corn, 
after it had been laid by, and hoe out the 
burs. They are fine for making play- 
baskets, but somehow they are not high- 

30 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

Ij relished as a food by man or beast. 
In fact I have never discovered what 
they were really made for, unless it was 
to give boys something to do between 
times. I couldn't resist grabbing a 
grasshopper and making him angry by 
running a straw up and down his ribs, 
until he tried to spit on me. I also won- 
dered why there were no chinch-bugs 
in the corn. They sure used to hang 
around the corn a right smart back in 
Kansas, when I was a boy. Perhaps 
our Chamber of Commerce has sent them 
no invitation to come over the range, or 
else maybe they began to raise so much 
stuff for them to eat in Kansas that they 
all died of the colic. Anyway they have 
never seen fit to call on us. 

After loitering along through the 
corn we finally ran plump bang into a 
patch of tomatoes. There was a youth 
picking them : "Hello, sonny ! How are 
they turning out this year?" 

"Most too many fer pickin'." 

31 



IN THE VALLEY OP THE GRAND 

"How many ton are you getting to 
the acre?" 

"Don't ax me — ^I ain't been pickin' 
that long." 

"My! But those are big, smooth fel- 
lows." 

"Yars, but they ain't as big as they 
beed back in Indeeannie." 

"Oh! I don't know about that, I've 
been around some in Tippecanoe County 
and I have never seen anything that 
would lay a candle to these." 

"Mustin ter ben down in the South- 
ern part then — they hafter git extru 
sized cans fer ter can 'em down yar." 

"You must be thinking about pump- 
kins." 

"Punkins ! Say, feller ! You oter seed 
the punk my pap tuck the prize with 
down ter our kuntry fair. It was so 
blasted big me and me big brother cud 
sleep in 'er nights, and we keeped one 
cow on 'er all winter." 

"Who owns this place .f"' 

32 



lis THE VALLEY OV THE GRAND 

"Wall, I caint just say now — I jess 
come on this job this mornin', and I 
think maybe I'll quit'er ter-night — too 
many tomaters ter suit me." 

"How many bushel-baskets are you 
getting on the row?" 

"Caint say, I ain't a bin trackin' 'em." 

"Oh! come on. Dad!" ejaculated Son. 

I couldn't blame that boy much for 
being discouraged, if he had to pick all 
of those tomatoes by himself — ^but I 
would pity the tomatoes more (and the 
owner as well) if he did. I must con- 
fess that I saw more ripe tomatoes than 
I had ever seen in one spot before. The 
vines were kept off of the ground by 
strong wire-netting that had been put 
in place while the plants were small. 
This kept the tomatoes off of the ground 
and also gave the sun a better chance 
to get at them. A tomato in its per- 
fect state is a gem. Its body is so 
delicately curved and its green stem so 
artistically woven and its coloring so 

33 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

gorgeous. Really, to me, it is one of 
Nature's best handiwork in the vegetable 
kingdom. 

"Let's hit her oif for the river and eat 
our lunch in the shade," suggested Son. 

"All right, I'm willing, for it will take 
me at least an hour making notes on 
what I got out of that boy about toma- 
toes." 

"Well, Dad, that boy wasn't hired to 
answer questions, was he?" 

"Oh! I haven't any kick coming so 
far as that part of it was concerned — 
he answered me every time I spoke to 
him." 

"Yes, but he didn't say anything." 

"Oh, well. Son, that's nothing un- 
common — plenty of people do that." 

We lunched in the shade of the cotton 
woods and watched and listened to the 
river. There has always been something 
fascinating to me in watching water in 
motion. We know that it has been the 
reason for a great many ideals and 

J4 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

mythologies and fantasies of man from 
time immemorial. One of those old 
Greek philosophers, full of love or 
prunes, as the case might be, would sit 
for hours (nowadays he would go a-fish- 
ing) and muse until he had a whole cir- 
cle of muses and a basket full of sprites 
Sometim-es he would get caught in the 
rain, and then he would image a thunder 
god or two, and when the slow moss-cov- 
ered brook had become a raging torrent, 
he would mix his thunder and blixen and 
turn out a batch of devils. And then 
when the storm had passed and the sun 
had dried his clothes, he would forget 
the evil spirits and think that this was 
a pretty good world after all. 

After munching our snack and taking 
a short snooze, we ambled off into the 
outskirts of the peach-belt. Think 
man! The average yield per acre of a 
good peach orchard in the Valley of the 
Grand is fifteen hundred boxes. Com- 
pute it at seventy-five cents per box, 

35 



TN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

and there you are — going some, eh? Of 
course, I don't want to be understood as 
meaning that we get a crop every year. 
Let me be conservative and have a crop 
every other year, and allow me to re- 
duce the average price to fifty cents — 
yes, even forty cents, per box, and then, 
my friend, we are still making more 
money off of a ten-acre peach orchard 
than one would off of a quarter-section 
of land in the Mississippi Valley. 

Yes, we have our troubles, too, just the 
same as one has troubles in other places. 
There are a lot of folk who think that 
it is a snap to grow peaches. Nix on 
the snap. Fruit-growing is the highest 
and hardest kind of an art, but it pays 
the true artist well. The general aver- 
age farmer has to learn the art, and any 
art is a zealous mistress — demanding all 
of one's time and attention, and 
especially is this true in horticulture. A 
peach tree is like an infant — somebody 
has to nurse and feed it the proper food, 
etc. 

36 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

We found that most of the peaches 
had been picked, but we discovered one 
here and there — enough to eat. They 
had ripened on the trees and were very 
dehcious. Take a large Elberta or a 
Crawford, and size it up : 

O! Miss Peach! Surely thou art fem- 
inine. 
Or no such creamy tint would be 
thine — 

Thou Valley of the Grand's Valentine! 

No more beauty and grace is found 
anywhere ; 

No fruit more deserving of loving 
care. 
Thy form doth my heart and soul en- 
snare ! 

Gathering the fragrance of the morn's 

dew; 
Your covenants with the sunbeams 

renew — 
Why ! The Angels in Heaven would w^el- 

come you! 

37 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"Well, Son, we had better be turning 
face about," and we struck off through 
the country homeward bound. 

"Remember that half melon, Dad." 

"Don't accuse me of forgetting that, 
Son. We'll sidle back that way after a 
while." 

"Hello, there!" 

"Hello, yourself! Why, is that you 
George. You haven't moved down here, 
have you.?" 

"No, I live in the same place — ^I've 
got this place rented for a pasture." 

"Have you gone out of the truck busi- 
ness .f^" 

"Mostly. I like stock-raising better. 
What do you think of this colt, ain't he 
a beaut .f^ Refused two fifty for the 
mare and colt. Got a couple of two- 
year olds in the back pasture. Come 
on over and see 'em." 

"And so you have decided to go in for 
stock.?" 

"Yes, I like it better than farming." 

38 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"It's wonderful how horses have come 
back, George. One would think with all 
kinds of motors that horses would be a 
drug on the market. Of course the war 
has helped a lot." 

"Yes, that's true, but there are a- 
plenty of farmers, myself included, 
that's found out that it pays better to 
have horses rather than motors: horses 
are cheaper than gasoline now, and then, 
too, it's a lot better for the soil." 

"My, man! But you have some fine 
calves there." 

"Yes, I've got seven of them — they're 
all from good stock. I want to show 
you some pigs that is pigs when we get 
back to the house. Got ten pigs that 
will be ready for market in December — 
corn fed — they are good for at least 
three hundred dollars." 

"George, thirty years ago hogs were 
selling for three cents a pound, and now 
they are fifteen cents up — some differ- 
ence. In those days if a farmer would 

39 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

invest a thousand dollars in a pleasure 
vehicle, he would have been voted as 
ready for the bug house ; nowadays the 
farmer who doesn't motor is a curiosity. 
By George ! George, that is certainly a 
peach of a pair of two-year olds, and 
how well they match, what are they 
worth ?" 

"Well, I'll get at least four fifty, may- 
be five hundred for 'em. I've got some 
cheap land up on the Pinon where I am 
going to summer my stock next year, 
and in a few years I'll be in the stock 
business right." 

"George, this has been a crackin' good 
year for everybody around here, hasn't 
it.?" 

"Yes, I'm satisfied." 

George turned the mare and colt into 
the pasture and we walked back to his 
house with him. 

"Want some cantaloupes .f^" inquired 
George. "I've only got a few — feeding 
them to the pigs mostly." 

40 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"Why don't you ship some?" 
"I haven't time to monkey with them." 
We came to the patch, about one-half 
acre — several hundred melons were com- 
ing on in all stages of development. 

"Better come up to the house and get 
some salt." 

"No thanks, Son carries salt — he uses 
an old talcum can and it shoots fine. We 
would rather have a can of salt than a 
gun any day." Son and I ate two 
muskmelons apiece. "Well, so long 
George." 

"Come out again." 

"We wHl." 

"Dad, when I grow up I want to be a 
farmer," said Son. 

"All right. Son, I believe that you 
have a good hunch. I'll try to get to- 
gether enough coin to send you to some 
good agricultural college." 

"It don't take much money, does it.?"^ 

41 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"Not if jou work your way through, 
It don't. Where there is a will there is 
always a way — as the old saying goes." 
In about an hour of steady plodding 
we reached the cache and found our 
melon still cool. Seeing Guy out in the 
field, we carried our melon over to where 
he was working, so that we could talk 
and eat together. 

"Well, Guy ! I see you are still at it." 
"Yes, I just received an order from 
the hotel in town to bring in fifty 
pounds of sweet potatoes, and while 
they are not quite ready to dig, they are 
bringing me good money — twelve and 
a half cents a pound — and so I can af- 
ford to nip them now. I'll be through 
by the time you get your melon eaten 
and then I want to show you my house," 
"You like to ranch, don't you, Guy .?" 
"Yes, I do. I would rather run this 
little place than anything else I know of. 
I've tried other things, but I am back on 
the land to stay." 

42 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

What joy in doing things 

That one likes best; 
What pleasure labor brings — 

Contentment, rest. 

Happy he who finds out 

His own life's work; 
No longer does he doubt — 

Nothing to shirk. 

Achievement surely his 

Reward and crown; 
Victory certain is — 

Great his renown! 

I placed my mess of sweet potatoes 
in a small flour sack, which I had 
brought along for just such an emergen- 
cy, and Son and I went with Guy to see 
his house. It nestled back among the 
trees, comfortable and cozy. "What a 
unique looking cement porch and how 
substantial. Did you build it.?" 
"Yes," said Guy ; "also the walks." 
On the inside we found a beautiful 
hardwood floor. Built into the walls 

43 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

were bookcases, desk, china closet and 
window-seats. He had electric lights, 
mountain water from town, hot and cold 
water, and of course bath, etc., in fact, 
every city convenience. In the book- 
cases were some of the world's best 
literature. 

"I see you have Dickens — he is my 
favorite author." 

"I like him, too," replied Guy. He 
continued: "I like to read something 
that I can get some good out of — not 
necessarily heavy stuff, but something 
about life and told in a human sort of 
way. Nowadays, it seems to me, that 
the publishers are spending most of their 
time trying to get the people to buy 
something that they don't want." 

"Guy, you are exactly right, the pub- 
lishers are trying to force the public 
to read a fake brand of literature. 
Blood and thunder and mystery and sex 
ad nauseam isn't life. Life's activities 
are better than this brand of fiction and 

44 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

a whole lot more entertaining and whole- 
some." We spent a very enjoyable hour 
together. When I reluctantly started 
to leave, I discovered that Son was be- 
ing entertained by Guy's sister, with 
popcorn balls for the principal menu. 
She insisted that I also partake of one, 
which I did without much urging. 

Hear the pop, pop, popping. 

As though there would be no stopping 
Of the popping popcorn! 

How it jostles and jumps. 

Takes the leap and gets up and 
humps : 
Jolly is popping corn ! 

In the long winter's night. 

How it makes things cozy and right 
When one's eating popcorn ! 

"Looks like rain," I said as we started 
for home. 

"Yes," replied Guy. "It's raining a 

little on Grand Mesa now. Come out 

again." 

45 



m THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

"We sure will." 

The sun was rapidly approaching 
his journey's end on this part of the 
earth. He threw out his arch of Hght, 
which shadowed the sides of Pinon 
Mesa with a soft, misty green. Farther 
on, near Grand Mesa, it became a vapor 
of shadowy blue. Presently, a primary 
rainbow came like a caressing baby 
angel and nestled in eastern sky. 'Ere- 
long a secondary bow appeared. March- 
ing forth, parallel to western horizon 
and apparently to capture the rainbows, 
came bands of colors in red, orange, yel- 
low, green and blue, with a heavy re- 
serve of purplish glow over all. Shad- 
ows and soft lights patted and kissed 
the cheeks of the Book Cliffs, and lin- 
gered in fond embrace around the neck 
of Mount Garfield; then came on to 
court Mount Lincoln. 

Slowly, but surely, the outline of 
Grand Mesa came through the sea of 
blue vapor, faint at first — like a spirit — 

46 



IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 

then bolder, and finally, the Soul of the 
Proud Old Mountain came forth in all 
of it's majestic glory. Floating clouds 
of fluffy white and pearl and pearl-blue 
and pearl-gray, flitted here and there, as 
though carrying angels from Heaven to 
witness this gorgeous array of light and 
color. Gradually the soft shadows and 
tints of blue dispersed for the time 
being, and suddenly from crag to crag, 
from gorge to gorge, from mountain to 
mountain there appeared one vast sub- 
lime color of golden beauty ! It tinted 
and hallowed every living creature and 
the growing garments of the earth. It 
even appeared to make the dead in tree 
and weed come forth and breathe a soft 
beauty of life. It was wonderful ! Won- 
derful beyond the conception of 
thought! No pen could write it; no 
voice could speak it; no brush could 
paint it — it was the touch of a master 
hand. My heart filled and thrilled with 
gratitude. Everything proclaimed : 
Glory to God in the Highest ; Peace on 
Earth — Good Will to Men! 

47 



